Free Fierce Beauty by Kim Meeder Page A

Dakota slowly gained weight and strength. She began to run and play with other dogs and eventually became a beloved friend to Seven, my small blue heeler.
    Kelsie was told that in this stage of Dakota’s recovery, exercise would be good for her dog. The vet shared that it would stimulate her circulation, muscle development, and general well-being. When asked about thepossibility of taking Dakota on a pack trip, the vet said it would be a fine idea.
    After discussing it thoroughly, Kelsie and I agreed on a plan of action. Because we always hike in while leading our horses under panniers, we knew if Dakota became fatigued, we could easily boost her onto one of their five strong backs.
    Once our horses were packed with enough gear and food for nearly a week, we cinched each of their loads into a high and tight position. After performing a quick check of every buckle, strap, and knot, we joined hands to pray over the trip. With all of us carrying our own backpacks and guiding our own horses, we set off toward a new adventure.
    Our travels would take us approximately seven miles into the Cascade wilderness. Since we’re constantly training our horses, I wanted each one to experience every position, from leader to follower, along the trail. To accomplish this, we rotated horse and hiker teams every thirty minutes. While guiding Cade—a relatively new-to-us, smoky buckskin—in the front of the string, I took great pleasure in observing how much Dakota enjoyed simply being a dog.
    She and Seven, or Sevi for short, explored every bush, log, and tree. Once we broke out of the forest onto the high Wickiup Plains, the two dogs ran with complete abandon, bumping shoulders as their canine teeth clashed in an open-mouthed romp of blatant joy. Had they let loose with a life-is-awesome celebration howl, I certainly would’ve joined them. Just the thought of it made me smile. It was wonderful to see this sweet dog getting better physically and feeling better too.
    After nearly two hours of hiking along the abrupt edge of an immense obsidian lava flow that soared three hundred feet above us, high plains gave way to a sweeping north-slope descent into a glorious, old growth forest. The snowcapped panorama of the pumice plains quietly succumbed to the towering, cool depths of the mossy canopy above. Snow-fed streams tumbled all around us, each flanked by a brilliant tapestry of pink monkey flowers, purple larkspur, red Indian paintbrush, and orange columbine. Small yellow flowers that I didn’t recognize also seemed tojoin in the merriment with a bright, visual laughter of their own. After another hour we turned off the main trail and blazed to what I knew in my heart to be nearly hallowed ground.
    The dense forest opened up into an expansive, southern-sloping meadow. While striding through the knee-deep grass, I realized this massive, green wonderland was also a favorite banquet area for mule deer, elk, and bears, as well as the steed at my side. The look of pure awe on my horse’s face was priceless. Perhaps he believed that somewhere along the way he had crossed an invisible threshold and had been transported from earth directly into heaven itself.
    We set up our base camp away from the meadow in a dense stand of trees. Because the thick canopy overhead thwarted any fragile plants or underbrush from growing beneath them, it was an ideal place to camp with minimum impact.
    Each day held unique rewards. Heralding every morning was a glorious sunrise, a visual concert with golden spears of light pouring over the jagged eastern horizon. On horseback we navigated by compass and daily indulged in hillsides of blueberries warmed by the sun. We exchanged all reason for the pure “wahoo” factor of plunging into a frigid lake. Evenings were framed by soft facial expressions warmed by the amber glow of a fire. And a grand finale came while lying on our backs in the meadow at night and watching our breath rise beneath a glittering display of